P
Paladin
Guest
How do I get myself into these things??
I meet a daughter of a friend at a bbq on Sunday, and she's asking around for help getting started
mtbiking our trail system. She's from Eugene, OR and just doesn't know where to turn. We chat a bit
and I learn that her favorite trail is the McKenzie River Trail, no bridal path, that one.
So, like a white knight riding up in shining armor, I graciously offer to introduce her to our
awards-winning system on Tues afternoon. So once we firm up the date (so to speak!), I wonder later
how do I sell this little outing on the wife??
So to stay out of trouble, I get my teenage son out of school, call Adam, who's always game to meet
a single gal, (G-Man's busy, Jim's at a track meet), so we meet at the park. Advice from Penny says
group rides are a good thing in this potentially tricky situation.
New gal's got a nice Trek hardtail, with the right tires, and an easy going manner. I try to sound
her out on how hard she wants to hit it. She says shyly, "Whatever you want, I'll keep up." Hmmmmmm?
Okay. We shall see, now, won't we, boys and girls?
I'm on the SS, Jr's on the Marin, and Adam's on his boing-boing, planning to hang with us and then
go on higher after we turn down.
At 4pm it's so busy at the park that I can't even change clothes in my truck! O the indignity
of having to use the bathroom! Probably better not to flash in front of this new "riding
buddy", anyway.
We head out behind the big hill, past the pond, and it's about 70f, sunny and the place is beginning
to sprout bikes, dogs, walkers, runners.
Over to Uncle Stan's and I'm trying to keep my semi-patronizing tour guide monologue to a minimum as
we hit the base of the first big hill. My son shoots out ahead like usual. Ahh, to be 14 and
invincible again. New gal is keeping a good pace up the hill, and I come alongside and tell her most
people can't even do this on their first try, and then I have to stand for the last 150 yards or so,
almost catch the kid, and come in second. She's third, and Adam rides the caboose.
More travel-guide bs, and up Crestline. The gal says she's never ridden with such views, where you
can literally see 50 miles in 3 directions and see snow-capped peaks on two mountain ranges. Her
eyes are big, and she's not showing any signs of wear. So for a little more climbing, we do a couple
klicks up Sidewinder to open up the east end of the valley and show her the Owyhee mountains to the
south, still covered in snow. Wow.
Back to Crestline, up to the creek crossing, and there's a flock of peacock's on an lbs group ride,
who cheer me on crossing the creek and climbing out on the SS. Adam's got his shirt off by now and
is hoping the females will swoon over the sight of his manly chest. Or do a mating dance for him.
Well, the gals ain't swoonin, so we say adios, lower the seats and point the bars down Hulls Gulch,
one of my favorite close-in trails.
It's a happenin little track of 3.3 miles that sets above a creek, complete with rocks, ruts, water
bars, tricky lil boulder gardens, it's all real time adrenalin. I take the lead so my son doesn't
hit Wharp-10 and kill himself, and it's a rockin, movin and groovin hoot.
A couple miles down, I send the boy ahead, and wait 3 seconds for the female unit to appear, and
she's doing danged well for never having ridden this before. Maybe I shoulda pushed her harder.
Next time?
So weez all a'grinnin and moving fast through the lower, smoother sections, take a left past Golden
Sands, bunny hop onto a bridge, and I'm spinning the SS like a hamster on speed.
Up Chickadee Ridge, the 360 views, tool along the spine, lose sight of the boy, just as a dude on a
Santa Cruz "meets" him at a corner and they almost super-nova. No harm done, the dude apologizes all
over the place, but I let him off easy with a hundred dollar bill and his drivers license in my
pocket (just kidding).
Down the face of the ridge, Jr loses control on a switchback and flies through the air with the
greatest of ease, opening a yard sale on top of some sage brush. Unhurt, of course.
Back to the park, and there's nothin like that euphoric sense of a great, fun ride under our belts.
The little loop we did was only 8 miles, but had some good variety, and pretty much showed her the
spine of the trail system. I have to believe the old saying, that time spent riding is not deducted
from your life.
Paladin
I meet a daughter of a friend at a bbq on Sunday, and she's asking around for help getting started
mtbiking our trail system. She's from Eugene, OR and just doesn't know where to turn. We chat a bit
and I learn that her favorite trail is the McKenzie River Trail, no bridal path, that one.
So, like a white knight riding up in shining armor, I graciously offer to introduce her to our
awards-winning system on Tues afternoon. So once we firm up the date (so to speak!), I wonder later
how do I sell this little outing on the wife??
So to stay out of trouble, I get my teenage son out of school, call Adam, who's always game to meet
a single gal, (G-Man's busy, Jim's at a track meet), so we meet at the park. Advice from Penny says
group rides are a good thing in this potentially tricky situation.
New gal's got a nice Trek hardtail, with the right tires, and an easy going manner. I try to sound
her out on how hard she wants to hit it. She says shyly, "Whatever you want, I'll keep up." Hmmmmmm?
Okay. We shall see, now, won't we, boys and girls?
I'm on the SS, Jr's on the Marin, and Adam's on his boing-boing, planning to hang with us and then
go on higher after we turn down.
At 4pm it's so busy at the park that I can't even change clothes in my truck! O the indignity
of having to use the bathroom! Probably better not to flash in front of this new "riding
buddy", anyway.
We head out behind the big hill, past the pond, and it's about 70f, sunny and the place is beginning
to sprout bikes, dogs, walkers, runners.
Over to Uncle Stan's and I'm trying to keep my semi-patronizing tour guide monologue to a minimum as
we hit the base of the first big hill. My son shoots out ahead like usual. Ahh, to be 14 and
invincible again. New gal is keeping a good pace up the hill, and I come alongside and tell her most
people can't even do this on their first try, and then I have to stand for the last 150 yards or so,
almost catch the kid, and come in second. She's third, and Adam rides the caboose.
More travel-guide bs, and up Crestline. The gal says she's never ridden with such views, where you
can literally see 50 miles in 3 directions and see snow-capped peaks on two mountain ranges. Her
eyes are big, and she's not showing any signs of wear. So for a little more climbing, we do a couple
klicks up Sidewinder to open up the east end of the valley and show her the Owyhee mountains to the
south, still covered in snow. Wow.
Back to Crestline, up to the creek crossing, and there's a flock of peacock's on an lbs group ride,
who cheer me on crossing the creek and climbing out on the SS. Adam's got his shirt off by now and
is hoping the females will swoon over the sight of his manly chest. Or do a mating dance for him.
Well, the gals ain't swoonin, so we say adios, lower the seats and point the bars down Hulls Gulch,
one of my favorite close-in trails.
It's a happenin little track of 3.3 miles that sets above a creek, complete with rocks, ruts, water
bars, tricky lil boulder gardens, it's all real time adrenalin. I take the lead so my son doesn't
hit Wharp-10 and kill himself, and it's a rockin, movin and groovin hoot.
A couple miles down, I send the boy ahead, and wait 3 seconds for the female unit to appear, and
she's doing danged well for never having ridden this before. Maybe I shoulda pushed her harder.
Next time?
So weez all a'grinnin and moving fast through the lower, smoother sections, take a left past Golden
Sands, bunny hop onto a bridge, and I'm spinning the SS like a hamster on speed.
Up Chickadee Ridge, the 360 views, tool along the spine, lose sight of the boy, just as a dude on a
Santa Cruz "meets" him at a corner and they almost super-nova. No harm done, the dude apologizes all
over the place, but I let him off easy with a hundred dollar bill and his drivers license in my
pocket (just kidding).
Down the face of the ridge, Jr loses control on a switchback and flies through the air with the
greatest of ease, opening a yard sale on top of some sage brush. Unhurt, of course.
Back to the park, and there's nothin like that euphoric sense of a great, fun ride under our belts.
The little loop we did was only 8 miles, but had some good variety, and pretty much showed her the
spine of the trail system. I have to believe the old saying, that time spent riding is not deducted
from your life.
Paladin
